Oh, hello! Please come in, handsome, and don’t mind the cats. But make sure you don’t step on any of them, hard as that may be considering the number currently in my “collection: you don’t want to end up like the last unfortunate fellow to darken my crooked doorway!
You seem surprised! What, did you expect all witches to be old, ugly, and fat? Well, I’m certainly not ugly, am I? Ha! If anything, I think I’ve only gotten better with age - and width! I’d dare even say that my beauty has increased with every corresponding inch of my waistline! And if that’s the case, I might very well just be the most comely woman you’ve ever set those pretty eyes on!
Let me guess: you’ve come for a tale, haven’t you? A story that will make you sweat, that will cause the gooseflesh to rise up on those big forearms? No need to tell me, I’ve heard it all before! Well, there’s a chill in the air, the leaves have begun to fall from the trees, and the moon is full and bright, so I suppose the time is right for just such a telling! In other words, it’s Halloween (or near enough, at least)!
But which shall I choose, hmmm? I just know so many, each more horrifying than the last: ghost ships found floating in the middle of the ocean by boats of fisherman woefully unfamiliar with the supernatural, houses haunted by more than the spirits of mere humans, incursions from other dimensions, by beings that are eager to see what happens when an anvil is dropped on living flesh and blood…all true, by the way - I’m a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them!
Aha! I know just the right one for you! Yes, I can see in your face that this is just the kind of story you braved these dark, twisted woods to hear told by the master herself! Please take a seat on that big toadstool over there, boy, and I’ll fetch you a cup of today’s brew to sip from while I tell it!
Careful, you almost just stepped on Mr. Whisker’s tail! What a shame that would be: I can tell from the tightness around the crotch of your jeans that you’ve got a big fat cock on ya, and I’d hate for you to force me to do something that would prevent me from ever getting to enjoy it!
Now, here, take a long, deep swig of this. The cup is made from the same bark as my home, you know: I find that it enhances the taste quite nicely! Oooh, nice, strong fingers. I like that. I like that very much…But it’s tasty, no? And I can see that big dick is hardening even more, and no, it’s not just because you’ve been staring at my big hanging tits this whole time, or my fat ass when I turned around just now to fill up the cup. You like ‘em big, don’t ya? But it’s a very potent aphrodisiac, you see, and you’d be better off not knowing how I made it, lest the effect promptly wear off! Or maybe it would only make that erection even stronger, and if so, we’re going to get along just fine, indeed!
But you’ll just have to wait it out for now, boy, as you’ve got me in a yarn-spinning mood, and not even the promise of more corporal pleasures could hope to stop me now! And that’s saying a lot for me, as you’ll soon see for yourself firsthand, my young friend! And if it all goes well, it’ll be far more than only once!
Oh, Mr. Whiskers! I can’t believe he’s taken such a liking to you! Maybe he sees in you a kindred soul, which is surprising, because he certainly hasn’t been acting like he remembers anything prior to his coming here! And nor should he! Hmmm, maybe I’m losing my touch a bit, in my golden years, or maybe I just need a good screwing to clear my head! How long has it been since the last one? Oh, right, just last week! But he wasn’t very good, and so, well, into the ol’ black cauldron he went….
Anyway, where shall we begin? On Halloween Night itself, of course! How long ago, exactly, I’m not exactly sure. The centuries blur together for me now, you understand. Maybe it was just last year, or maybe the decade prior, or maybe long before you ever blindly swam out of the depths of your father’s hairy ball sack, and into your mother’s even harrier cunt!
But that’s neither here nor there, and I’m hornier than the Count himself, so let’s get started already!

“Aww, look at the happy couple!”
“You guys are so cute together!”
“Smile!”
Glen glowered as Chad placed his arm on his shoulder, while their teammates took picture after picture of the two in their Halloween costumes. Chad was going as a football player, which, admittedly, wasn’t much of a costume, since he (and Glen) were on their high school’s varsity football team. The twist, instead, came in what Glen was wearing: one of their school’s cheerleader uniforms, borrowed from none other than Chad’s very own girlfriend, and no less than the captain of the Squad herself, the beautiful and popular Stacy.
Glen had known of Stacy before: her reputation as the absolute hottest girl in their town long preceded her. But he hadn’t actually met her until earlier that day, when Stacy and her girlfriends had assembled at his house to do his hair and make-up (much to the amusement of Glen’s little sister, Tabitha. Of course, the little hellion made sure to take a picture with her Polaroid camera for her own personal collection, and Glen made a mental note to destroy it when he got home, which could not be soon enough).
How had he come to suffer such a humiliation, you ask? You see, Glen was a star athlete, so much so that he had been promoted up to the varsity team even though he was still only a sophomore. But it had come at a cost – the perverted “initiation ritual” he was currently being forced to endure.
It didn’t happen very often, that a younger kid was allowed to join the older boys due to his advanced athletic skillset. But when it did, the upstart in question was also forced to do this: that is, dress up like a cheerleader and go trick-or-treating with the Captain of the team on Halloween night.
And not before the rest of the guys took a lot of pictures, naturally.
At some schools, the new guy had to foot the bill for a team dinner (which, you can imagine, is quite a lot when you’re talking about feeding an entire high school football team). Here, in this town, for God only knew what reason, they did this instead. This, Glen could now testify, was far, far worse. He would have gladly taken them to a 5-star steakhouse if it meant avoiding this entirely.
Chuck, an overweight defensive lineman, came up and squeezed one of Glen’s “breasts” (which was really just a ball of newspapers shoved under the cup of an old bra that Stacy had so “generously” donated to the cause)
“Damn, nice tits!” Chuck exclaimed, and Glen unhappily noted the hungry look in his small, beady eyes as he said it. It was enough that Glen half expected to see Chuck lick his lips, too.
“Yeah, it’s almost as big as one of yours!” shouted Jim, a running back who was essentially the team’s unofficial comedic relief.
Chuck rolled his eyes as he stepped back to rejoin the rest of the guys. He never took Jim’s ribbing very personally, and, anyway, none of it compared to what Glen was going through. No, next to that, a sharp-witted jab was easily blown off.
“Hey, I think he might even be a little hotter than Stacy!” Jim continued. “Say, think you might dump her for Glen, Chad? I couldn’t blame ya for it if ya did, honestly! Awoooo!”
Chad squeezed Glen’s shoulder, good-naturedly. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, “let’s just see how the night goes first, huh, fellas?” Chad gave the guys a confident wink, prompting even more laughter.
It could be a lot worse, Glen consoled himself. He had only known Chad for a little while, but he was mistakenly a Good Guy, and Glen suspected that Chad, despite the airs he was currently putting on, was only marginally less disgusted by this whole grotesque spectacle than Glen himself was.
Glenn shuddered to think what a disaster this would be if he had been paired up with someone more into it, like say Chuck, for example…. If this were indeed some horrid alternate universe, and Chuck was the quarterback instead of Chad (along with being about fifty pounds lighter)…God, he couldn’t even think about it!
That small mercy carried him through the next round of pictures, all through which their teammates practically begged Chad to plant a kiss right on Glen’s (artificially) rosy right cheek. Thankfully, he declined with the shake of his head, and Glen considered this as more evidence that Chad wasn’t as enthusiastic about this whole thing as he otherwise appeared.
The laughter began to die down, as the novelty of the situation was evidently beginning to wear off. That, along with the encroaching twilight, was as good a sign as any for Glen and Chad to get the show on the road.
As they turned, ready to set off from the front lawn of Chad’s house and complete the circuit of his neighborhood, Glen heard one of the guys whistle from behind them.
“Nice ass, too!” shouted Chuck. Of course it was fucking Chuck.
God, what was he going to do with all those pictures he took? Glen thought, but then reasoned it was better he didn’t know, for the sake of his own sanity, which was already being strained by what he was being made to do.
“Dude, yours is like 5 times as big!” responded Jim, to a chorus of laughter, including from Chuck himself. Glen could hear them start to scuffle, but not seriously enough for anyone to actually get hurt. They wouldn’t want to sabotage their chances of winning this Friday’s big game, the one against their chief rival!
Once out of sight of the rest of the team, Chad removed his hand from Glen’s shoulder. It had just started getting dark. And with it, the temperature had started to noticeably drop. This was all well and good for Chad, who was wearing jeans and his varsity jacket, but Glen, with his exposed abdomen, arms, legs, and shoulders, was far from comfortable.
“Sorry about that,” he said to Glen, sheepishly. “Look, I know this whole thing is so stupid and so weird. But after this, the guys will treat you like a brother. All of the coaches say so. Actually, even my Dad and my uncles back them up. They played football, too, back in their day. And according to them, they won’t even dare to ever bring it up again, if that makes you feel any better.”
“I know,” responded Glen. It did, for the record. “It’s hazing. I get it. At least you’re not beating the shit out of me or anything like that.”
“Yeah, it could be worse,” agreed Chad. “Over in the next town, the rumor is they literally tore their guy a new asshole. Like, literally made a hole in him! And I don’t even want to know where it was!”
They walked in awkward silence for a few minutes, past darkened house after darkened house.
At least that meant they would be getting through this ordeal just that much faster, Glen thought.
“Man, what a bunch of stiffs!” complained Chad. “They remind me of Stacy - she doesn’t celebrate Halloween either! Her family doesn’t even bother to put a bowl of candy out on their porch! Can you believe that?”
“Yeah, how come?” asked Glen, mainly to keep the conversation going.
Chad shrugged his wide shoulders. “It’s her family, dude, not her. They’re really religious, believe it or not. They think Halloween’s the Devil’s birthday or some shit. Don’t get me started - you wouldn’t be able to guess how long it took to get Stacy to even suck me off!”
Glen laughed nervously, taken somewhat aback by what Chad had just so freely revealed about his longtime girlfriend. But before he could come up with a response, they both spotted the open doorway and interior lights that were the universal sign of a home that was actually giving out candy. Was that too much to ask on Halloween night?
“Nice!” exclaimed Chad, with much more enthusiasm than Glen had expected. Evidently, the years of being with Stacy had built up a real craving in Chad to be able to celebrate the holiday once again. Glen was also touched, he had to admit, by how little Chad seemed to care about potentially embarrassing himself in front of Glen by doing so, and how much it must have meant Chad already trusted him.
Chad led the way up the concrete pathway to the house, Glen slightly behind him, and promptly pushed the doorbell when he arrived on the slightly raised concrete stoop.
Ding-dong! The sound echoed inside the ranch, causing a dog, from somewhere inside, to start barking furiously (admittedly, this was not a fun holiday for canines, right up there with the 4th of July and New Year’s Eve)
“Calm down, calm down,” they heard a woman shout, and shortly thereafter she appeared in the doorway: a skinny, middle-aged woman in jeans and a sweater, holding an orange bowl filled to the brim with candy. She smiled when she saw Chad, clearly having recognized him.
She opened the screen door with one hand while holding the bowl with the other. The sounds of a TV drifted outward. By the screams, they could tell it was a horror movie. No surprise there: some of the channels, Glen knew, were running 24-hour marathons of the classics – and decidedly non-classics - alike.
“Glen!” exclaimed the woman. “How are ya?! And Stacy, how nice -”
She turned her head slightly, and frowned. It had taken a second, but she now realized it wasn’t Stacy who was out trick-or-treating with her beloved boyfriend. It was a man – or a boy, to be exact – albeit one adorned in a cheerleader’s uniform, makeup, and a long, blonde wig (the only thing that wasn’t feminine were his sneakers, as they would have been hard-pressed to find women’s shoes big enough to fit him anyway.)
“Oh…” she said, her tone somewhere between disgust and disappointment.
Chad laughed.
“No, not Stacy, Mrs. Blackwood!” Chad said. “I know it seems funny, but it’s the school’s tradition when a younger kid gets bumped up to the Varsity team like talented Glen here did! They have to dress up like a cheerleader and go trick-or-treating with the Captain on Halloween night! Isn’t that crazy?”
“I see,” said Mrs. Blackwood, now visibly relieved that something more perverted wasn’t going on here. “My, that is funny! But, uh, where is Stacy, then?”
Chad shrugged. “Having a sleepover with her girlfriends, I think. She would never be out here with me anyway. She hates Halloween!”
“Who hates Halloween?” Mrs. Blackwood said, with exaggerated incredulity. “Well, you two feel free to take whatever you want, now!” Then, addressing Glen directly: “And I hope you don’t have to wear all that for too long, dear!”
“Yeah, me too!” replied Glen with a grumble, as they both reached into the bowl offered up by Mrs. Blackwood. Chad took a Hershey’s mini (dark chocolate), while Glen took a fun-sized Kit-Kat. Then they put their respective loot in the vintage Jack o’ Lantern pails that Chad had fished out of his family’s garage at the last minute, when he realized they still needed something to actually put their candy in. An easy-to-forget detail if you hadn’t gone trick-or-treating in half a decade.
“Well, have fun, boys!” Mrs. Blackwood said cheerfully, and waved goodbye as Glen and Chad walked back down the smooth concrete path to the cracked sidewalk. Glen finally felt some of the tension that had been building up inside him dissipate when he heard the screen door slam shut behind them.
One house down, hopefully not very many more to go, Glen mused. And it hadn’t been so bad either, had it? Mrs. Blackwood had certainly seen the humor in it! Eventually, at least…
As they walked to the next house, they finally encountered some fellow trick-or-treaters. Across the street from them were three kids, each one dressed in what appeared to be, largely, homemade costumes. Were they siblings? That would make the most sense, and if so, their parents had definitely cheaped out on the “bodies” of their outfits, as all they were wearing were sets of black sweatshirts and black sweatpants (and hand-me-downs, at that, if their ratty conditions were any indication). But maybe it was because they had blown their budgets on their masks? If so, that made a lot of sense, because those were of a much higher quality.
The girl was a witch, and the boys were a pumpkin, and a skeleton, respectively. And that was the thing – they almost looked like the real McCoy (that is, if witches were real). The Pumpkin, for example, was painted with uncanny realism, to the point where little bits of rot had been peppered along its surface. Likewise, the Skeleton looked almost as if someone had dug up an actual human skull and, in an act of profound disrespect, had turned it into a mask. And the Witch was most impressive of all – even at this distance; Glen wagered he could count each individual pore on her long, hideous face, if he were so inclined.
Glen had to wonder where exactly they had been purchased from, as they looked far more expensive than anything he had seen in any of the local party stores for the past month (which was when they had first started putting out all of their Halloween wares)
The trio had been huddled together as they walked parallel to Glen and Chad, whispering amongst each other about God only knew what, when the Witch - the girl, and in much the same manner as Mrs. Blackwood before her – realized that the cheerleader across the way was actually a guy in drag. She stopped short to silently stare, and her brothers/companions quickly joined her in gawking at what was, to them, a deeply strange couple (though, in their defense, this was, to put it lightly, not a common sight in their town. For God’s sake, you couldn’t even go shopping on Sundays in this county!)
Though he continued to walk alongside Chad, Glen felt his stomach drop. The team was one thing, but the idea of being mocked by younger kids was so horrifying that it made him want to turn tail and run all the way back home right now (and it wouldn’t have taken him all that long, either, as he was a very fast runner). But considering everything he had accomplished, and all he had gone through - the hours of practice, both on and off field, the bruised fingers, the broken bones - he realized he couldn’t just throw it all away now in a moment of dumb panic.
It seemed counterintuitive, but he knew that’s what would actually lose him the respect of the team: to chicken out of going trick-or-treating dressed as a girl. To stick it out, to come back proudly swinging that pail, now filled to the brim with candy, still done up like a pretty little cheerleader - that’s what would win him their undying respect, and that, he also knew, would pay dividends in school, sports, and life overall.
In conclusion: He had it persevere. He had to suck it up, to push through. He further reassured himself with the thought that, next year, with Glen off to college, he would probably be the Captain of the team himself! And when he was in charge, they’d make the upstarts like him go through something marginally less unbearable than this. Like, maybe selling little books full of coupons door to door to fundraise for new jerseys!
He took a deep breath. Inhaled, and then exhaled, feeling much better already. And, as if they knew their power over him had suddenly waned, the masked children began walking and whispering again.
Nevertheless, though he had bested them, Glen still hoped they wouldn’t be seeing them again. Not tonight, not ever.
“Those masks were fucking freaky!” said Chad, echoing Glen’s feelings with uncanny accuracy. “Way scarier than anything we had when we were kids!”
“I don’t even know where they got them,” replied Glen. He was still watching them as they walked away, as if he was worried they might suddenly run back and stone them both to death at any moment.
“Not from around here,” agreed Chad.
When the threesome had finally disappeared behind a particularly large bush, Glen finally felt safe enough to look away.

The next house they came to, another ranch, had opted to simply put out a bowl full of candy on their porch, placed in the lap of a fiberglass skeleton. “TAKE ONE,” the sign taped to the rim of the bowl implored, lit by the solitary porch light. And so they did – Chad took a Rice Krispies treat topped with orange and black drizzle, while Glen chose a mini pack of M&Ms. For Glen, right now, this was as good as it got – all of the spoils without any of the hassle of trying to explain that he wasn’t a real cross-dressing sicko to another bemused adult. He wondered where the owners of this house were: on vacation, out to dinner, at a party? Whatever the case may have been, he silently thanked them for their merciful absence.
The next two houses were, like the first few, totally dark.
“This is so weird,” Chad complained. “This neighborhood used to be active as hell when I was a kid. We would constantly have to run back home just to make space in our bags! One year, I didn’t even make it to the end of the sidewalk before having to go home to dump it all out!”
Speaking of which, they had just made it to the end of the block in question right as Chad was explaining those long-gone, halcyon days. The street was dead quiet, and so they promptly crossed without even stopping to check for traffic. But between the aprons, Glen did turn his head to look down the road, just in time to see a gaggle of young kids, all dressed as ghosts and headed in the opposite direction, laughing as they went.
It was a scene right out of an old painting, one attempting to capture the quintessential American Halloween. For a brief moment, Glen’s heart warmed at the wholesome, innocent scene and the feeling of deep nostalgia it engendered in him. His mind was flooded with memories, sweet as fresh candy corn, of October’s 31st day long past: the costumes, the fall leaves, and, of course, the mountains of candy. But this was quickly washed away by a far more disquieting thought: where they, then, by definition, headed in the wrong direction?
It was as disturbing an idea as it was baffling: whoever said they were going the wrong way? Who was to say there was a “wrong way” to begin with? As long as they stayed in the neighborhood (and it would be obvious if they had, since it would mean crossing the train tracks), everything was going exactly as had been planned. Better, even, since they had only come across one occupied home so far, greatly reducing the frequency of torturous awkwardness.
But why had he had this thought in the first place, then? And why couldn’t he shake it now? He almost wanted to ask Chad if maybe they shouldn’t turn around, but then stopped himself, realizing how absurd of a question that was. This was Chad’s neighborhood, so obviously he knew where he was going. He wouldn’t want Chad to start questioning his judgment now, would he? That could have deep ramifications for the rest of the football season, and then they still had wrestling, and after that lacrosse....No, it would be foolish to give Chad any reason to distrust his judgment, especially over something so silly as this errant notion had been.
He would keep his mouth shut, he decided, wrapping his arms around his exposed torso for whatever small comfort it might provide him. He made sure to go slowly, so that he didn’t accidentally scratch himself with his long fingernails. And the chill did subside, too, slightly. But the distant laughter of the ghostly children faded much more, unfortunately.
And it was getting darker. They finally made it to the weathered apron that signaled the beginning of the next block. Overhead, something flew by on flailing wings. Glen turned his head, whipping the bottom of the wig across the small of his back, but wasn’t able to get a clear enough glimpse of what it was before it disappeared behind the nearest cluster of trees. Bird, or bat? Considering the temperature, and the time of year, it was much more likely to be the latter than the former.

His heart sank: the next house on their left, a two-story, and in much worse condition than any on the last block, was clearly occupied: the screen door was propped open by a large rock, and music was pouring out of it from within. The Monster Mash, that old staple, to be exact, and a tinny rendition at that. Tinny enough to tell that it was definitely being played over the radio. It could have even been coming from their own school’s radio station, in fact.
And so Glen and Chad were regaled with the retro tune as they navigated their way up the path, through the overgrown lawn. Glen tried his best to avoid the unkempt branches that hung over it from scratching his exposed, sensitive stomach. He mostly succeeded.

I was working in the lab, late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
For my monster from his slab, began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise

“Hello?” Chad shouted, trying to modulate the volume of his voice so he wasn’t shouting too loudly. Glen was glad to see that Chad didn’t want to contribute even more to the neighborhood noise pollution. “Uh, trick or treat? Is anybody home?”
Glen was also thankful that Chad was so willing to take charge in situations like these. He’d never have been able to work up the nerve to yell into a stranger’s house like this. What if the owner wasn’t actually welcoming trick-or-treaters, despite his song selection, and was angry with them for their intrusion?
“I’m coming!” yelled a male voice from inside. But he didn’t sound annoyed or upset, thankfully, just hurried.

(He did the mash) He did the monster mash
(The monster mash) It was a graveyard smash
(He did the mash) It caught on in a flash
(He did the mash) He did the monster mash

A few seconds later, the source of the voice appeared in the open doorway. He was in his late 30s, Glen guessed, and dressed simply in a white wife-beater and grey sweatpants. In his one hand was a bottle of beer, and, in the other, full-sized candy bars. A Halloween score if there ever was one!
“Uhhhh…” the man stammered, as he looked rapidly between Glen and Chad.
Here we go again, Glen thought, and rolled his eyes. He again wrapped his arms around his belly as if to protect the most vulnerable area of his body. Was he half-expecting to actually be attacked by this guy? Cross-dressing wasn’t looked on too fondly around here, but it was just a big Halloween gag, right?
But then the older man smiled and laughed.
“Oh, damn, I get it!” he said. He pointed at Chad with the same hand that was holding the beer. “You’re the captain of the team, aren’t you?” He swept the pointing hand so that it was now directed at Glen. “And you’re the new kid, the prodigy! I saw you dudes play last week! Oh, this is some kind of hazing thing, isn’t it? Well, I’ve got something better for the two of you, then.”
The man retreated back into his house, while the Monster Mash continued to blare. Glen and Chad looked at each other. Chad shrugged his wide shoulders.

(Wa-ooh) From my laboratory in the castle east
(Wa-ooh) To the master bedroom where the vampires feast
(Wah-wa-ooh) The ghouls all came from their humble abodes
(Wa-ooh) To get a jolt from my electrodes

When he reappeared about a minute later, he did so with something that was indeed much better than the full-sized candy bars he had been holding previously. Now, in that same hand, he was carrying two unopened bottles of beer instead, the same brand as the one he had been drinking himself. He offered them to the boys, who gladly took them from him.
“Better than chocolate, right?” he exclaimed.
“Hell yes!” Chad agreed.
“Thanks, man!” chimed in Glen.
“Just make sure the cops don’t see you drinking those,” the man said, as he leaned forward and scanned the street behind them. “But come to think of it, the street’s been kind of deserted lately. It was really busy before, but you two are the first kids I’ve had in hours. Well, you’re not really kids, but you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” replied Glen. He reached up and scratched his scalp with his free hand, the surface of which had suddenly become very itchy. What he didn’t notice, however, was that the wig didn’t shift at all as he moved his fingers between the individual synthetic hairs, like it should have.
The man shrugged. “Well, enjoy those, dudes, and Happy Halloween!”
He waved to them as they made their way back through the overgrown lawn and to the sidewalk, drinking the beers as they went. The Monster Mash continued to play.
(He did the mash) He did the monster mash
(The monster mash) It was a graveyard smash
(He did the mash) It caught on in a flash
(He did the mash) He did the monster mash

They discarded the empty bottles in a beat-up recycling bin that had been left on the curb in front of yet another dark house. The street lights had just come on. Chad, without comment, put his hand on Glen’s shoulder again. Back with the team, it had somewhat annoyed him when Chad had done it. Despite Chad obviously not meaning it that way, it had felt slightly condescending. Now, he had to admit, he kind of liked it. It made him feel safe, like Chad could protect him from anything that might come their way. Like those three kids in the uncanny masks. Glen kept on expecting to see them again, and for a reason he couldn’t even begin to explain, he didn’t expect it to go as well as the first time.
How long had it been since the man who gave them the beers? Fifteen minutes? In that time, they had only come across a few more occupied houses. Nothing of note had really occurred during their stops at them, either, except for the fact that the interactions with their respective occupants were getting shorter and shorter. At the last one, an old woman had greeted them, and she had basically only grunted at them intelligibly before throwing some pieces of hard candy in their pails.
“How many more houses do you think we have left?” Glen asked.
“Probably only a few more. But you know we still have to stop at the cemetery, right?”
“The cemetery?” replied Glen, nervously. He didn’t remember anyone saying anything about that, and he damn well would have!
Before he could inquire more, a group of five kids, all in masks, came speeding by them on bikes down the otherwise empty street. As they passed, the one closest to Chad and Glen turned to look at them. What they saw caused Glen to emit a surprisingly high-pitched gasp. His/her/its eyes, set back further from the holes in the goblin mask he/she/it had been wearing than they should have been, had been glowing a fiery red.
“Whoa, cool effect!” Chad said. “How do you think he did that?”
Glen, for his part, said nothing. He had a strong feeling that it wasn’t an effect at all. Nor did he think the kid had been wearing a mask. But before he could confirm, the gang of nightmarish bicyclists had turned the next corner and were well out of sight.
“So, why do we have to go to the cemetery, again?” Glen asked Chad, desperately hoping to banish the goblin-child from his thoughts. It was no use: not only did he keep seeing those pointed ears, that long, dropping nose, and sickly green skin, but the features of the other riders were coming back to him now as well, in no particular order: feathers, beaks, slit eyes, open wounds, a forked tongue. It was as if his mind was trying to protect him from recollecting what he had seen, but failing, and now little bits of unwanted memory were filtering through. And yet Chad seemed unfazed? But then again, Glen really shouldn’t have been surprised that Chad was that much stronger than he was, considering….
“Yeah, the cemetery!” Chad continued, oblivious to Glen’s distress. It’s the final part of the ritual! We have to write our initials on the Grave, to prove we made it through the whole neighborhood!”
“Whose grave?” asked Glen, nervously. With the strange turn the night had taken, he wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of going to ground zero for spooky goings-on!
It was getting colder, and he was beginning to outright physically shiver, to the point where he almost wished he hadn’t shaved his legs earlier that day, as embarrassing as that would have been. But this time, Chad, thankfully - finally - noticed Glen’s discomfort.
He could be so oblivious sometimes, Glen thought. But he still got points for noticing eventually!
“Oh, here,” said Chad.
Ever the gentleman, Chad removed his varsity jacket and placed it over Glen’s narrow shoulders. The long sleeves hung empty at his sides as he pulled the lapels over his own chest with his delicate, small hands.
“Thanks!” Glen said.
They finally started walking again, after having stopped to gawk at the cyclists. Like the witch, pumpkin, and skeleton from earlier, Glen hoped they wouldn’t encounter them again.

As they walked past empty house after empty house – some due to outright abandonment – Chad began to tell the story of Maureen’s Grave.
“Right, so, it’s funny - I keep wanting to say she was a witch - but she wasn’t. She was a werewolf. It was colonial times, and the people of this village, after every full moon, were waking up the next morning to find one kid absolutely torn to pieces in their straw beds or whatever. Like, totally unrecognizable, it was so bad. And so they assume it’s some sort of wolf, right? So, eventually, after even more kids were eaten up, they decided on a plan. The next full moon, every able-bodied man goes out and patrols through the village. And what do the women, old folks, and whatever kids were still left find when the sun finally rises? Yep, all of the men dead, ripped to shreds just like the kids. That’s when they realized this couldn’t have been just some ordinary wolf.”
Glen had put his hand back on Glen’s shoulder after adorning him in the variety jacket, but now he moved it down, and gripped Glen’s waist instead. As much as Glen had liked Chad’s hand on his shoulder, he liked this even more. His cock stiffened, and began to painfully press up against the skirt of the cheerleader uniform. Was Chad hard as well, he wondered? He hoped so.
“You really don’t know this story?” Chad asked. “Haven’t you lived in this town all your life, too? I thought everybody knew it…”
Before Glen could respond, they were both distracted by the sudden sighting of an explosion of lights opposite them. It was fairly far away - at least four blocks down from where they were, and between an outgrowth of trees - but it was nevertheless clearly a parade. Which was all well and good, except for one crucial aspect: their town had never staged a Halloween parade before, and Glen could not, try as he might, remember seeing anywhere that one was to be inaugurated that year.
It sounded like a real party, though! Even with the distance, they could hear various whoops, jeers, outbursts of laughter, and, underneath it all, the steady murmur of conversation. Glen squinted, trying to make out the forms of the floats and the spectators alike. None of the latter seemed to be shaped correctly – that is, human – but it was Halloween, right? Obviously, the audience was all just adorned in their costumes! But after those kids on the bikes, Glen was no longer so sure. Fortunately, Chad did not ask Glen if he wanted to walk over and join in. He doubted they really had time anyway – it was almost completely dark out, and they wouldn’t want to get to the cemetery too late.
“Oh, right, where was I? So, after all of the men were slaughtered, it became pretty obvious that the werewolf was the only one who was left, which was some dude named John. The villagers – the few that were left – confronted him, and not only did he confess, but this chick, Maureen, ran to his side, and admitted that she was a werewolf too! They told everyone they had been lovers for a long time, in secret, and had made a deal with the Devil to become werewolves. And you know why? Because they were bored, they said. That’s it – it was all just due to boredom! It was unbelievable! I mean, they had killed and eaten their own fathers just the night before!”
“Well, that was that, I guess, and they were executed, no trial needed. They were both crushed to death beneath piles of stones, but they never let go of each other’s hands the whole time, even after they were dead. Or so they say. And that’s the story of Maureen’s Grave. I think. It’s possible I might be misremembering some parts…”
“But where was John buried, then?” asked Glen. He braced himself for an answer he desperately didn’t want to hear.
“Uh, I’m not sure…” responded Chad. “Maybe in the tomb next to hers? Or maybe they just burned his body instead? It is possible they were afraid he wasn’t actually dead, and might come back to tear them up…you know, those weirdo fucking pilgrims…”
That’s too bad, Glen thought. He had found the story deeply romantic, and had hoped that Chad would say that they had been buried together. In fact, mentally, he was now rewriting their tragic ending, and, in his version, they wouldn’t just accept their fate, as brave as that had been. They would run off into the woods instead, in wolf form, wild and free, but, most importantly, together.
He didn’t have to wonder if Chad shared his sentiment. He knew that he didn’t. Chad, he was sure, was satisfied by how the story of John and Maureen had supposedly played out. Chad was a real “Law & Order” type unlikely to be swayed by notions of love and romance.
We all have our flaws, Glen reasoned. Chad was just lucky that his positive qualities far outweighed his negatives.
The thought made him smile, and he looked over at the house they were passing, which they had already dismissed as either empty or at least not accepting trick or treaters. The blinds were shut, but in one corner, Glen noticed, they had been lifted slightly. Through the gap, something with small, bright eyes was looking out at the sidewalk. Any other feature the…thing…might have had was either obscured or didn’t exist at all. But when it realized Glen had spotted it, it quickly dropped the blinds and did not open them again, at least for as long as Glen was close enough to the house to see.
Glen decided not to burden Chad by telling him about it.

After walking past what had felt like miles of empty or dilapidated houses, Glen and Chad finally came across one that looked promising. The blinds were shut, but light was still creeping out where it could, and, while the screen door was closed, the inner door had been left open. It also wasn’t a complete shithole – yes, some of the paint was chipped, but it looked like the lawn had been mowed at least once in the past year, which was more than they could say for most of the homes they had passed as of late.
They looked at their paltry hauls. Both of their pails were barely half-full. Would anyone even believe that they had actually gone trick-or-treating, and hadn’t just run directly to Maureen’s Grave instead? That would make the whole thing a total waste, wouldn’t it?
“This is the last house before the cemetery,” said Chad. “We might as well! And I don’t know about you, but this is not nearly enough candy for me! I need it to last until at least Thanksgiving!”
Thus, it was decided, and Chad gripped Glen’s waist even tighter as they strolled side by side up to the entranceway of this final house. Chad, always one to take charge in any situation, leaned forward and rang the doorbell when they were close enough to it. But nothing happened. No little jingle rang out at all.
They were about to turn and leave when a female voice called out to them.
“Please, come in!” the unknown speaker said from inside, in what struck them as an oddly cheerful tone.
To try to better locate the source of the voice. Chad and Glen stepped up closer, and peered through the screen door,
“Over here!” said the voice, just as gaily as before.
With that vocalization, they were able to find her. On the staircase, they both could now make out the figure of a woman. She seemed to be wearing some kind of bonnet wrapped around her head, and along with the inconsistent lighting inside the home, it served to shroud her face almost completely in shadow. Was she young or old? Neither of them could tell, at least not from out here. Her voice did have a youthful air, but voices and bodies didn’t always match, they both knew.
“Silly me – I didn’t buy enough candy this year! I don’t know what I was thinking! But I’m baking some cookies in the oven, and they’re almost ready! Won’t you come in and wait until they’re done? It should only be a few more minutes! I can give you something to drink, too, while we wait! The fridge is full of soda pop!”
The entire time she was saying this, her arms hadn’t left her sides at all. She had stayed standing completely still and rigid, like a wooden nutcracker you might see around Christmas time (which, despite being in less than two months, now felt very far away indeed).
Glen and Chad looked at one another. For once in his life, Glen desperately hoped Chad would have the good sense to be a coward, as counter to his nature as that was. As Chad turned back to the door, Glen found himself holding his breath.
“Uhhh, sorry, we really don’t have enough time, Miss,” Chad said, politely but awkwardly. The breath Glen had been holding in was released in a deep, relieved exhale. It was almost orgasmic.
“Oh, it won’t take that long!” answered the woman, who increasingly didn’t seem to be a woman at all. “Not long at all! Can’t you smell them - they’re so close to being done!”
They couldn’t
“No, it’s okay, Ma’am,” Chad replied, more firmly this time. “We really should be going. We have to get to the cemetery and…” His voice trailed off as he realized the fruitlessness of explaining the silly tradition to this “woman.” Whoever, or whatever, she was, Chad could figure, even with what little he really knew, that it would be like trying to tell a joke to a snake. Pointless, and possibly even dangerous.
To Glen, he cocked back in the direction of the street. They turned and began to make their way to the sidewalk, Chad now gripping Glen’s thin waist harder than ever. The fact that even brave Chad was worried made Glen want to throw up.
“Please!” the voice pleaded from behind them. “Please don’t go! I need you! I need you! I NEED YOU!”
With that last “NEED YOU,” something else had found its way into her voice. It took Glen a second to place it, but he recognized it as the sound an arcade game had made just last week, that Chad had been playing, while Glen, as usual, dutifully watched. Before shutting down completely, the audio had glitched, and one of Chad’s “enemies” in the game – a man with the head of a pig, that Chad’s own avatar had been in the process of beating into submission -had made a noise very similar to the one the “woman” had just emitted. It was like the noise a melting computer might make, if someone could throw one that was somehow still powered on into an active volcano pit.
Neither of them dared turn around, until they were far enough away that all that lay to either side of them were woods. When Glen did, he exhaled deeply a second time, almost as powerfully as before. This was because, he only realized after, he had fully expected to see that two-story house again, right behind them. It would have followed them, somehow, and the woman on the stairs would still be screaming in that horrifyingly inhuman voice about coming inside and eating her cookies.

It had taken a few minutes – minutes that had felt like hours – but Chad was finally able to relax after that bizarre encounter with the woman on the stairs. Glen knew his internal tension had eased, because Chad moved his hand down from his waist and onto his right ass cheek. Like its counterpart if was almost impossibly round, the envy of every girl in school, and Chad liked to give it a reassuring squeeze every now and then, for Glen’s gratification as much as for his own (Glen had told him many times before how much he liked it when Chad grabbed his ass. “It’s like it sends electrical shocks through my whole body. The good kind!” had been his exact words).
Glen put his head on Chad’s strong shoulder, and put his arm around his waist. He wanted to talk about the “woman,” but knew better than to bring it up. Chad would need time to process it, not unlike during the weekends of heavy silence that had followed many a Friday night defeat, that Glen had witnessed in full, helplessly, from the bleachers.
Hell, Glen would need time to think it over, along with every other bizarre encounter they’d had that night. The only thing that kept his sanity afloat, he reckoned, was the idea that tomorrow, in the cold light of November 1st, this would all somehow make sense.
From overhead, as if the universe was actively trying to challenge this notion, they heard the harsh, dark cackling of an old woman. Glen looked up, fully expecting, as absurd as it was, to truly see a witch flying by on a broom above them. If that had indeed been the source of the laughter, she was gone by the time Glen gazed upward, and instead only found the bright full moon that was even now illuminating their path to the cemetery, in cooperation with the few lampposts that dotted this remote stretch of old asphalt.
Chad, on the other hand, never took his eyes off the road in front of them. At the very least, they both thought independently of one another, their journey would soon be at its end.

As Glen was busily gazing skyward, a svelte black cat silently emerged out of the woods and stepped out onto the road behind him and Chad. Able to see through the dimness in the way that only cats can, she gazed at the couple as they walked away from her, totally oblivious to her gaze.
Why are they going that way, she thought to herself. Don’t they know that all that awaits them in that direction is death, or even worse?
But the cat shrugged, in the fashion that a cat could. She had always made it a point to not interfere in such matters. Humans weren’t really her concern, at the end of the day. Bastet only knew she had enough to worry about already. So many hungry kittens to feed! She crossed the street, and entered the tree line there.
Ultimately, she never gave the doomed humans a second thought. She was much more occupied by the question of how many of those little, ugly elves she would ultimately catch that night. The ones with the grey skin and pointy hats, that she and her progeny had happily found, through much firsthand experience, tasted far better than they looked. It turned out, ultimately, that she would go on to bag more than a few, too. So, for the cat at least, and her family, that Halloween would go down as an unequivocal success.
If you’re in the mood for happy endings and happy endings alone, I’d suggest you stop there.

The cemetery gates – big rusted things, bordered on both sides by ugly gargoyles bearing hateful expressions - were closed when Chad and Glen finally got there, so Chad had to boost Glen over the fence before climbing over it himself. It wasn’t so bad - the former gave him another opportunity to grab Glen’s big ass - both cheeks now - and the latter was trivial considering his considerable strength. He basically did it all in one fluid movement, and landed on the other side in the same stance a superhero might make before taking off into the sky.
Glen, in turn, greatly appreciated the feel of the former and the sight of the latter, to the point where his penis once again became erect. Unlike before, though, it did not pain him at all, as his penis was no longer pressing up against the bottom of the uniform. If Glen had stopped to inspect it, he would have found that it had shrunk in length significantly.
Once they were on the other side together, they began to search for Maureen’s Grave, hand in hand - one big and callused, the other small and smooth.

It took a lot of cursing, and the fog that had set in sometime soon after they catapulted over the fence didn’t help, but they finally found Maureen’s – surprisingly large – resting place (really more of a mausoleum), in what was likely, in Glen’s estimation, to be the dead center of the cemetery. Whatever inscription that had been itched on the face of it had long since degraded to the point of illegibility, but they were still able to tell it was the one they were looking for because it was covered almost completely in the initials of lovers past. In mostly red, black, or blue they were written, with some so old they were mostly faded, while others looked fresh enough that they could have been done earlier that very day. But there were so many that Glen honestly worried if they would ever find an unused space at all.
It took some digging – literally, near the base of the tomb – but they finally discovered a spot undefiled by another couple. They had been kneeling side by side to better claw at the dirt and moss, and when they had finally uncovered enough ancient marble to write their initials on, Chad reached into one of the varsity jacket’s pockets and retrieved a black Sharpie he had stashed there before leaving home.
“Let me do it,” said Glen. “You know my handwriting’s better than yours. If you wrote it, nobody would know it was even from us!”
Chad, knowing better than to argue that particular point (because it was undeniably true), nodded, and handed the Sharpie over to Glen. Glen took the cap off the pen, and carefully wrote “CS + MJ” on the space that they had excavated together. When it was finished, Maureen put the cap back on the Sharpie, and she and Chad stood up. Absentmindedly, she put the pen back in the jacket pocket, and started to head over to retrieve their Halloween pails, which they had left atop a tombstone not far from Maureen’s Grave. But before she could get very far, Chad reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Hey, babe, not so fast!” he implored. “Hey, look over there,” he said, and cocked his head towards a nearby tree. It was a willow, and its leaves, instead of turning brown, had transformed into a ghostly white, and most still hung from its drooping, twisted branches. “You thinking what I’m thinking, babe?”
Maureen rolled her eyes. Chad was always pushing to have sex in risky or unusual places – in his car, in empty classrooms, even the school cafeteria (while still fully occupied), but a cemetery? That was weird, even for him. Maureen tried to think back to the last time they had fucked, and couldn’t quite place the date. Had it really been so long that he would resort to this? He had two working hands, didn’t he?
“I don’t know, Chad,” Maureen replied, and pulled her boyfriend’s jacket tighter against her shoulders with her free hand. “It’s too fucking cold…”
“Listen,” Chad countered, and pulled his girlfriend closer, so that her huge tits, only slightly constrained by the heavy coat, pressed against his own broad chest. “We won’t be able to do anything at either of our places. Our families are all going to be home by now. So if we don’t fool around here, we won’t get the chance again until…until I don’t know when!”
Probably tomorrow night, Maureen thought. It is Friday, after all. Everyone at school was so excited that Halloween was falling on a Friday this year.
But, as loath as she was to admit it, the idea of fooling around in a cemetery was beginning to sound more and more appealing. It would certainly be a funny story to tell her girlfriends tomorrow, when they went to the mall or whatever (there was one girl in particular, Amber, who Maureen knew had a crush on Chad, and Maureen always secretly relished the look of anger and jealously that would flash in her eyes whenever she dished about what she and Chad had “gotten up to” recently. This was Maureen’s way of getting back at Amber for going out with a guy she liked back in 9th grade, whose name she could no longer recall. Clearly, then, it had been no great loss to Maureen, but the point still stood: nobody stole from her and got away with it.)
“Well….” she said, and bit her lip. In a way, that sealed the deal, because there was no way Chad was going to be able to keep his meaty hands off her after pulling that little move. “But just a blowjob, Chad, okay? It’s just too goddman cold to do anything else!”
“I’ll take it!” Chad exclaimed so loudly that he was practically screaming. He pulled her toward the willow, and Maureen couldn’t help but giggle as she trotted along with him towards it.
When they reached the tree, Chad turned and pressed his back up against the trunk, while Maureen crouched before him. She unzipped his fly, and let his stiffening cock tumble out of his jeans. Careful to not let it sit outside in the chill for too long, she lifted it with her skilled tongue and drew it further into her mouth without any use of her hands. As usual, it was soon far too big for her to encompass all at once, but she was determined to be able to, one day.
Maybe I’ll surprise him on our wedding night, thought Maureen. Hey, new hubby, look what I can do!
Yes, Maureen was already taking it as a given that they would be married. He was the hottest guy at their school, and Maureen was the hottest girl, so what more did you need to know? Was it even really too soon for her to start picking out their wedding colors?
Chad put his hand atop Maureen’s head, and let out a slight moan. Based on the signs, she knew that it wouldn’t be long now before Chad exploded down her throat, likely accompanied by him yelling out her name. That was her favorite part. She picked up speed, and even raised a hand to cup his balls, both in the service of hearing him shout it out all the sooner. Well, that was mostly the reason why she was savoring the thought of this all being over. There was also the fact that her knees were starting to hurt, too.
Somewhere behind them, beyond the tree line, she could hear something moving around – something big, by the sound of it. Probably just a raccoon, she thought. A really FAT raccoon!

It was, in actuality, not a raccoon at all. It was a troll – an 8-foot-tall bull, completely naked, and holding a great, handmade wooden club in one of its massive hands. He was gazing hungrily at the couple, being careful to stay just out of sight, and all the while sporting a raging erection. Moreover, precum was dripping steadily from its tip and falling onto the dense layer of underbrush below it, forming a small, stinking puddle of white-green liquid where it was collecting.
The mind of a troll, such as it is, is difficult for its human counterpart to truly understand. Yes, he is capable of thought, but the way in which these thoughts are organized and understood by the troll itself would be totally alien to any one of us.
Thus, for the sake of clarity, here is a quick summation of what the troll was planning to do. In short, he was going to rush out of the tree line, and grab both Chad and Maureen, before they could escape. Then, he would slam Chad against the trunk of the willow until he was dead, at which point, with Chad successfully neutralized, the Troll would then proceed to rape Maureen. This would result in her death as well, very likely before the Troll even came. Not that it really mattered – the troll would continue fucking her until he was well satisfied, regardless of the status of his victim. Then, having surely worked up a mighty hunger, he would consume both of their bodies, in the messy way that trolls were wont to do (and which usually resulted in a right dreadful mess)!
All in all, it was, in the troll’s estimation, and as far as troll plans usually went, a pretty good one. His great cock even jumped slightly at the vivid mental image of him ravaging the female only a few feet away from the ruined, crumpled body of her lover.
He was just about to put it into action when he felt a rumbling come from deep below his elephantine feet. To once again translate the Troll’s thoughts into something a human would comprehend: the troll understood that this meant that they had already claimed the human couple, and the troll knew that, despite his excitement, it was for his own good that he stay well out of it. Trolls may be powerful – able to crush a human’s skull with just a slight flex of their hand muscles, to illustrate - but there are many, many things out there that were even greater than his kind, he knew. Infinitely more so, and woe to the foolish troll that would try to challenge them! And this troll’s (dearly departed) mama had raised no fool!
And so the troll lumbered off, his cock beginning to go flaccid as a consequence of his bitter disappointment. The female human had such a nice, fat ass, and the Troll doubted he’d see another like it for quite some time. To console himself, he resolved to try to catch some of those little elves that lived around the cemetery. The ones that had grey skin and wore pointy hats, that tasted far better than they looked.

Maureen had felt the first wave of trembling, too, but dismissed it as just a passing truck. The second round was much worse, and she, regretfully, was forced to eject Chad’s dick out of her mouth with an actual audible “popping” noise. It pained her to do it, knowing how close he was to coming, but two shocks like that in a row could not be ignored like the earlier rustling that had emanated from the nearby woods.
“Is it an earthquake?” she asked Chad, but, before he could respond, the third wave of shaking hit, severe enough that she could hear the candy rattling around in the Jack O’ Lantern pails that had been forced to become unwitting voyeurs to the cemetery blowjob.
And then the ground opened up behind her. It was not a very big seam, no – but it was big enough for the arms that came shooting up out of it. So many arms, of all different types: fleshy and bony, small and large, old and young, and all in some state of decomposition (though some were further – much further - along than others). But before Maureen could react – could run, scramble, even crawl out of reach - they had grabbed hold of her, and begun pulling her down into their deep and dark domain, away from Chad and his beautiful, but now totally flaccid, dick.
“Maureen!” Chad cried, and he tried to grab her, to pull her back from the brink of whatever terrible fate she was undoubtedly about to suffer. But he found that his own hands couldn’t quite reach her, and that was because he was being taken too, albeit in a different, but no less horrifying, way: he was literally sinking into the trunk of the willow tree, and he could not stop it, no matter how ferociously he struggled.
“Chad!” screamed Maureen, but it was too late. The only parts of her that were still above ground were her head and outstretched right arm, and then they were gone too, pulled with one last rally of hate-infused force by the rotting limbs that had sprung up all around her like stinking weeds.
And then the Earth sealed itself up again, and the old willow tree was back to being nothing but, and the insects, which had first quieted with the presence of the troll, resumed their cacophonous chirping. The only signs of recent human activity remaining at all were the two orange Jack O’ Lantern pails, half-filled with candy, still sitting side-by-side atop the tombstone where they had been left. The caretaker on the morning shift would go on to find them, assume they had been forgotten there by punk teenagers, and proceed to eat most of the candy inside them throughout the rest of his shift. Everything except the dark chocolate, which he didn’t care for, no matter how much healthier it supposedly was for him. That, along with the emptied pails, went right into the fucking dumpster.

And from then on, boy, whenever a couple seeking to leave their mark was given instructions on where to find Maureen’s Grave, whoever was giving the directions always had to specify which. “Not the small one, no”, they would say. “Not the one across from the big tree with that weird, black mark on it – the black mark that looks eerily like a man screaming!” But visiting that Maureen’s Grave had its benefits too, they might add, because, if it was quiet enough, and you leaned down and put your ear to the ground near it, and listened carefully, you could hear what sounded very much like a woman shrieking from somewhere deep below!
How did I come to hear this story for the first time? Well, let’s just say a little birdie told me…okay, it was an owl…no, make that several owls, and you’ll meet them all soon enough. We swap stories over tarot!
And, before you ask, yes, we can go visit those strange landmarks together, but that will have to wait a while. You owe me dick, boy, and I am keen to collect it! Did you think I forgot? I’ve thought of little else since you sat down!
But first, let’s make some badly-needed corrections. I have certain standards for my lovers, and you are currently falling far short of them.
There’s no need for any further magic – the potion you have been consuming this whole time is more than enough. And it should be kicking in right about…now!
Ah, just in time. Splendid! Let’s start by making that belly nice and big! A real man should have a greater gut than his woman, no? And, in our particular case, that means it better be pretty fucking big indeed!
And now the rest will follow – fatter arms, fatter legs, and a very becoming double chin. Oh, how I love a man with some meat on ‘em! And make sure to get that cock out– yes, just like that – so that it doesn’t get damaged expanding in those tight jeans of yours. And, while you’re at it, let’s get the rest of those clothes off, too, before they become too tight and uncomfortable.
My, that is a big ol’ dick, ain’t it? I mean, I know it was thick before, but now it’s fucking gargantuan! We can measure it later, but I’d wager it’s a good ten inches long, and at least six across! And I must say I like the way that hairy, heavy belly is resting atop it….
Oh, right, the hair! Do you see how it’s sprouting up pretty much everywhere? And, if I had a mirror handy, you’d be able to see how you’re losing up some up top, and how what’s left is quickly beginning to grey. I want a man, not a boy, and while you won’t actually be as old as I am, you’ll certainly look the part! We wouldn’t want to get any funny looks while out on the town, would we? What, you think just because I’m a witch who lives in a tree, that I don’t enjoy a dinner and a movie every now and then? You have a lot to learn about your new wife, but, lucky for you, a lot of time to learn it! I have ways of extending your life far beyond what is natural, which is one of the many, many benefits of being my husband! And if you have any doubts, feel free to ask any of your predecessors – they’re always showing up around here in less corporal forms. They just can’t get enough of me, I tell ya!
My, oh, my - with that, it appears we are done here! Careful getting up – you might find that you don’t move as fast as you used to. And don’t worry about your friends and family – I will handle all of that. They won’t be coming around here any time soon, and if they do, well, remember what I just said about having ways of increasing your lifespan?
But forget all that! You have one job and one job only now, and that is to fuck my brains out on demand, and demand will be high, especially this time of year!
The bedroom is right through there, stud: just make a left at the shelves of colorful potions, then a right at the displays of stuffed and mounted creatures that you won’t find in any textbook, and then you’ll find it just a few steps down from the hanging cages!
And remember, above all else: watch out for the cats!